So Unexpected
by Azaelia Gamgee-Took
Summary: Harry's world has come crashing down around him, and no one's efforts to cheer him up are having any affect... What finally gets to him is so unexpected... (PG for swearing.. hope the story's better than the summary...)
1. Salt in the Wound

"BOY!"  
Vernon Dursley thundered up the stairs and down the hall and flung open the farthest door to find his nephew lying on top of his unmade bed, his eyes staring at the same exact spot on the ceiling and moving only to blink, one arm hanging limply over the side and the other gripping his wand so tightly that his knuckles were white; a few red sparks spouted out of the tip of it every few seconds. It was the exact same position he'd been in since he'd come home from school. Vernon couldn't remember him moving at all except to use the restroom and to eat something once a day, when he ate at all. When Vernon continued yelling, it was in a somewhat subdued voice compared to the way he usually spoke to his nephew.  
"Someone's on the phone for you, boy. Do you plan on answering it or should I take it back downstairs with me now?" Still, the boy didn't move. Another sprinkle of red sparks emitted from his wand.  
"All right. If you're too busy in Dreamland, I'm going to hang up the phone. I won't have you tying up the line if you're not even going to speak to the boy." He turned and made to go down the stairs.  
"Leave it."  
Vernon turned with one hand on the doorknob. The boy still hadn't moved. "What's that?"  
"Leave it here." Another spray of sparks.  
Vernon stared at him oddly for a moment, then spoke sharply into the phone. "I don't know whether he'll talk to you or not. Doesn't seem to be interested in moving." Then he dropped it inside the boy's open trunk and left the room, closing the door behind him.  
The boy idly shot another spray of sparks into the air before turning his head slightly to look at the phone. Should he pick it up? He really didn't feel like speaking to anyone at the moment... or ever again. But if it was someone important... someone with news... No. No one could give him the kind of news he wanted right now. He faced the ceiling again and shut his eyes, trying to block out the images that had been haunting him for the past week.  
"Harry?"  
The voice was strangely muffled, as though it were coming from a long distance, and oddly familiar... "Harry?"  
He turned again and stared at the trunk. Ron... Against his better judgment, he slowly walked over, moved aside a book and some robes, and picked up the phone. "Ron?" His voice sounded dull, faraway.  
"Harry! Er... hi."  
"Hi Ron." He laid on his bed once more, his wand still in his free hand.  
"Er... I figured out how to use a telephone, see? No more yelling."  
_Wow, no kidding?_ "That's good, Ron." There was silence on the other end of the line. Harry sent another spray of sparks into the air.  
"Harry?"  
_Ron, if you want to say something, say it._ "I'm here."  
"Oh, okay. So, er... how are you?" His voice sounded tentative, as though he knew he were treading on thin ice that might crack at a moment's notice.  
_How am I? How do you bloody well think I am?_ "I'm just fine."  
"Are you... sure?"  
_Ron, I don't want to talk about it._ "I'm sure."  
"Oh." More silence. More sparks. "Say, Harry... Dad's got tickets to the Quidditch Cup again this year! D'you... I mean... would you want to come?"  
_No, I don't want to come! I don't want to do anything ever again!_ "Dunno. Maybe."  
"Cool! Uh... D'you think the muggles will let you?"  
_I hope not._ "Probably. I think they're a bit frightened to keep me from doing anything I want to right now."  
Ron gave a weak chuckle. "Yeah, after what Moody and them said, I'd be scared too..."  
_I suppose that's the only reason they're letting me have this conversation. I wish Moody hadn't said a word._ "Yeah, I suppose so."  
More silence. "So... guess you should ask the muggles if you can come, eh?"  
More sparks. "I guess I should. If I decide I want to come."  
"Why wouldn't you want to see Quidditch?"  
_Hmm. Think real hard, Ron._ "I'm not really in the mood to do much of anything at the moment."  
Ron gave a frustrated exclamation. "Come on, Harry! Look mate, I know you're still upset about Sirius. Who wouldn't be? I know he was..."  
"DON'T TALK TO ME ABOUT HIM!" Harry had sat up so quickly that his head began to spin; massaging his forehead, he continued. "Look, I know you all seem to think that 'talking about it will help me' or something like that, but you're wrong. Dead wrong. I never want to talk about it, or him, ever again. So just stop pestering me about it! Now is that all you wanted to talk about? Because if it is, you can go now."  
There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and Harry felt almost sorry for yelling at him so. Then, "Okay, Harry. I won't ask about it again. Mum said you might want to talk about it, that's all. But-- don't hang up on me, Harry-- if you ever want to, you know, talk... er, I'll be here." He gave a sort of embarrassed cough and went on. "So... want to come to the Cup?"  
Harry remained in a sitting position and leaned against the wall. He really didn't want to... but he didn't really want to blow Ron off, either... "Who's playing?"  
"England! Isn't that brilliant? They made it this year, and they're playing against Australia... my dad's really excited. Says the Aussies are a really fun crowd, great accents and they really know how to party... but he also says we won't be able to see that, because there's no way they're going to beat England, we're much better. But no one expected the Ireland- Bulgaria either, did they? And..." Harry let Ron ramble on while he went over his options. He was slightly interested in seeing England play, since he'd heard and read all about them. And it would probably do him good to spend some time with the Weasleys, the only people in the world who still loved him... but then he imagined what Mrs. Weasley would say. "Are you all right, dear?... well no, of course you're not. Who would be? You know dear, I understand what you're going through... but you have to leave the past behind you, you can't dwell on it, Harry dear..." Bla bla bla.  
"Won't he?"  
Harry shook his head and centered back on what Ron was saying. "Uh... sure, yeah he will."  
"So... d'you want to come, Harry?"  
Harry leaned back, taking a deep breath and exhaling. "I... I don't know, Ron. Can you... would it be all right if I take a day or two to think about it? I'll send Hedwig over as soon as I decide."  
"Oh... sure, that should be fine." Harry felt a small stab of guilt at the deflated tone in Ron's voice. "So... I'd better go. Unless there's anything else you want to talk about?"  
_How many times are you going to try it, Ron?_ "No, nothing I can think of."  
"Okay then... see you, Harry."  
"See you, Ron." He turned off the phone and stared at it for a moment, replaying the conversation in his head. After a minute he made his way to the top of the stairs, set the phone down, and gently nudging it with his foot, calling "I'm finished with the phone." He then quickly retreated to his room and laid down on his bed again, in the same position Uncle Vernon had found him in. He checked his clock: 1:16 PM. Another spray of red sparks emitted from the tip of his wand before he fell fast asleep. 


	2. Interrupted Dreams

_He opened his eyes blearily to find himself staring at the ground. Lifting his head a fraction and blinking, he saw that he was on the first of many wide, stone steps, all a bland shade of gray... was he somehow in and old black and white movie? No, that was ridiculous... and besides, the steps looked familiar...  
His eyes swept the staircase—if that was what it was—and he saw at the bottom a wide, circular space of floor, in a slightly darker tone of gray. "No!" He could sense himself screaming, but no sound came out of his mouth; the room stayed quiet... deathly quiet... "No! No, I can't be here, I don't want to be here!" He hadn't wanted to set foot in this room, or even look at it, ever again. Yet, here he was...  
In the very center of the room, there was a raised platform... a dais... "No! No, I don't want to be here!" And in the middle of the dais, there was an arch, with a ragged black veil hanging from it. The steps, the dais and the floor surrounding it were all made of stone, but the arch looked to be made of marble... It seemed strange that the veil was the only thing in the room that wasn't gray and toneless...  
The arch was beautiful... even the boy, through his confusion, had to admit that it had a strange beauty to it... a deadly beauty. And the veil... the veil was intriguing. There was no wind in the room... yet it was fluttering, as though in a light breeze. "NO!" The boy knew that his shouts had turned to sobs now, although he couldn't hear them. "No, please, someone get me out of here, I can't be here!"  
And then he heard it... although really, he supposed he'd been hearing it ever since he arrived in the room—how had he arrived in the room? And would someone get him out?—and he'd just been desperately trying to block it out until now. A voice... no, many voices. Coming from the center of the room... and it was this that drew him down the steps, though every fiber in his body was crying out..."No! Please, someone, anyone, please get me out of here! I can't be here, I don't want to be here, get me out!" But it was those voices that made him scramble down the stone steps and onto the dais.  
  
As he got closer, one of the voices began to stand out more than the others... yes, the other voices were fading away, and only one—the only one he wanted to hear—was still audible, but only barely so. It was calling him... the voice sounded lower than he remembered it, mournful, as heartbroken as he was...but that would change. It would change now. He stretched a hand out to pull back the veil...  
_ "AGAIN, BOY!"  
Harry snapped awake to find his hand stretched out in front of him. He gave a frustrated sigh and quickly rubbed his eyes, glancing at his clock... 1:23. Well, that was a long and restful sleep... He grasped his wand again before his uncle burst into his room again. "What d'you mean, 'again?'"  
His uncle's face was purple. "This is your second call of the day! I was about to make a call to a very important customer..." Harry tuned him out and stared at the ceiling once more, sending another sprinkle of sparks out of his wand and noting that Vernon's voice sounded quite more subdued than usual. "May I have the phone?" he asked quietly after a few moments.  
"Oh... fine. Make it quick, boy." He dropped it on Harry's bed and left the room. Harry waited until his footsteps faded before picking up the phone. "Yes?"  
"Oh, you answered... hello, Harry." The voice sounded somewhat tentative, falsely cheerful... and too familiar...  
"Hullo, Hermione."  
"Er... gotten your list yet?"  
"List?"  
"For school."  
_Well, that's a bit more tactful than Ron was, I suppose._ "No. We've only been on vacation for a week or so."  
"Oh, right, of course... 10 days, exactly."  
_I am _so_ glad I woke up for this._ "Yeah, 10 days."  
Silence on the other end of the line. "So, er... have you seen... have you talked to Ron lately?"  
"Have you?"  
"What? Oh... no, I haven't. Not since end of term."  
_Right, and my name's Neville Longbottom._ "Mmhmm... Hermione?"  
"Yes, Harry?"  
"When you talked to Ron just now, did he tell you what we said to each other?"  
There was a small gasp, then more silence. "Well... yes. Yes he did."  
_So nice to know I can trust my best friend._ "Mmhmm. And I suppose you're calling to try and fix things?"  
"Only... only if you want me to."  
_Damn it, Hermione!_ "And why would I want you to? What on earth have I or anyone done to make you think that I want you to 'fix things'?" He could feel his temper rising with his voice, but he didn't care.  
"I—I don't know. Please calm down, Harry. I only want to help you."  
"Well, thanks for the thought," he said sarcastically. "But I really can't see any way you could help me."  
When Hermione finally spoke again, her voice shook. "I'm... I'm sorry, Harry. I really didn't mean to upset you... I didn't mean to hurt you."  
Harry gripped his wand tighter still as another spray of sparks shot into the air. He felt slightly guilty for what he'd said... but only slightly.  
She continued, her voice barely more than a whisper. "We care about you, Harry. Ron and I. I thought you knew that... we're your best friends, Harry. You know, don't you, that we'd do anything for you? Now don't you start—I know there's not really anything we can do for you right now. But I still want you to know that we care. Ron was—Harry, when he called me, he sounded... worse than I've ever seen him, or heard him. He sounded heartbroken." Her voice was a bit louder now, but quivering. "He said... oh Harry, you have to know that we both miss him too. I know that we can't know what you must be feeling, I know that he was the only one you had left... but Ron and I knew him, too. We spent some of summer holiday with him last year, remember? And... Ron was just sad. He said something about not wanting to show that to you or something, because you'd yell at him or think him weak or something... but I thought you should know it."  
Harry had listened in silence as she spoke... it shocked him. He wasn't sure what to say, and he was having trouble processing everything she'd said... "So, what, did you two have a nice cry together?"  
There was a long pause and Harry shot a few more sparks into the air half-heartedly. "Yes we did," she said finally, though she said it so softly that he hardly heard her. "Ron, too. We care about you Harry, so much, and we cared about Sirius, and... can't you understand that?"  
Harry leaned against the wall and let go of his wand to run a hand through his hair. An angry tear glistened in the corner of his eye, and when he spoke again he failed to keep the quaver out of his voice. "Hermione, I do not want to talk about it. I appreciate what you said... I know you care about me, I know you're my best friends, I know everything you just told me, and I'm sorry I was horrid to Ron and I'm sorry I was horrid and am still being horrid to you, but you honestly have no idea... Hermione, you don't know. You and Ron, you're being... well, you're being like I'd expect you to be. Thank for that, but you just don't know. I'm still... I just... I don't want to talk about it. Not now, not... well, if I ever do, I'll know who to call." As he finished, his voice took back its sarcastic tone.  
"Harry..."  
_Damn, Hermione, can't you leave me alone? _"Look, I said I don't want to talk about it! I meant that! So stop trying to get me to! If that's all you want then I have nothing else to say, and if you've got a whole string of people lined up to call me one by one and try to 'talk it out,' you can tell them it's no good, all right?"  
"I don't, Harry. That's ridiculous. I just thought you might want to talk to your friends."  
"You thought wrong."  
"I can see that." More silence. "Did Ron ask you about Quidditch?"  
_Quidditch seems to be everyone's favorite topic-changer today._ "Yeah, he did."  
"Are you going to go?"  
"I don't know. I doubt it." He paused; she didn't jump on him about it. "And you?"  
"Oh, I don't know either... I did have fun two years ago, but I'm not as big a fan as the two of you are, you know, and... well, it wouldn't be the same if you weren't there, anyway."  
"Well... I told Ron I'd send Hedwig as soon as I'd decided." His voice had told her he was finished talking.  
"All right... let me know too, will you?"  
"If you like."  
More silence. More sparks.  
"Well... I'll see you later, Harry. Okay?"  
"Sure. See you." There was a click and the line went dead. Harry stared at it for a moment, then dropped it and flipped onto his stomach, letting the tears come with the memories that had appeared again, so unwanted...

(A/N: Sorry if that's a little over-dramatic. Tends to be the way I write, and go through life as well. Haha. So anyway... hope you like the second chapter, I'm proud of myself for how fast I got it up... Changed the whole concept for the ending, so I changed the title... and I'm only expecting to have one more chapter, but you never know. I never know myself... mua ha ha...)


	3. Poured Out

_Brrrring!_  
The phone ringing in Harry's ear awoke from his sleep, which had been dreamless this time—to his relief. He frowned at the phone for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to answer it. But he figured if he didn't, one of the Dursleys would come and get it from him anyway... "Hullo, Dursley residence."  
"I was under the impression that it was also the Potter residence." This voice, like the last one, sounded falsely cheerful, though it was doing a better job of disguising the falseness... and, like the first two, it sounded all too familiar.  
"Professor Lupin?"  
"Hello, Harry."  
Conflicting emotions immediately crowded Harry's mind. He was somewhat pleased to hear Lupin's voice, warm even through the pain he was obviously trying to conceal... but at the same time he was annoyed that yet another person was calling him, no doubt to 'extend his sympathies' or 'try and make things right.' But this was Lupin, this was different somehow from when Ron and Hermione had called... "I thought I heard the phone ringing, boy!" His uncle was thundering up the stairs to his room again.  
"Are you still there, Harry?"  
"Yes sir, I'm still here..." His uncle came into the room at that moment and stared at Harry, sitting up with the phone pressed to his ear. "It's for me again, Uncle Vernon."  
Uncle Vernon turned slightly purple and slammed the door, retreating down the stairs and muttering something that Harry was glad Lupin couldn't hear.  
"So... how's your summer holiday going so far?" He didn't sound tentative, like Ron and Hermione had, but comforting.  
"It's been all right, I suppose..."  
"Has it really?"  
Harry was surprised to hear the questioning tone in Lupin's voice: sharp, yet soft, reassuring, at the same time. He bit his bottom lip for a moment, trying to decide how to answer. "Actually... no. I haven't eaten hardly anything and I don't want to, I haven't been able to sleep for more than half an hour at a time and it usually takes me at least that long to get to sleep, and then when I do sleep, I..."  
"What, Harry?"  
"Nothing, never mind." _It didn't work with Ron and Hermione... it's not going to be any different this time._  
"All right." There was a small pause in which Harry grabbed his wand, lay down, and shot yet another jet of sparks into the air. He'd done it so much by now that he was surprised there wasn't a burn mark on the ceiling. "Have you heard about the Quidditch Cup this year?"  
That made Harry laugh—the first time he'd laughed in months, a dead, hollow laugh. "Yeah, I have. Twice. England versus Australia."  
"Yeah... thinking of going?"  
_Well, you could say that..._ "Ron invited me to go with him and his family. And right after he called, Hermione called and asked if I'd heard about it and decided whether or not to go. But then, I suppose you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" His voice had once again become harsh and sarcastic.  
"No, I wouldn't, actually. I haven't spoken to Ron and Hermione since the end of term."  
That took Harry by surprise. "You... you haven't?"  
"No, I haven't... when would I have?"  
_He wouldn't lie to me..._ "Never mind, sir."  
"You can call me Remus, if you like."  
_Why?_ "Okay."  
More silence. "What I was going to ask was if you were going to go to the Cup... I suppose you're going with the Weasleys?"  
_Why does everyone care so much whether I go see the bloody World Cup?_ "I don't know. I really don't want to."  
"Why wouldn't you...?" He broke off and gave a heavy sigh. "Never mind. Of course I know why you wouldn't... Harry, you said earlier you hadn't been able to sleep... I have to admit that I haven't either. Although, I do hope you've been getting more sleep than I have..."  
Harry shrugged, though he knew Lupin couldn't see him. "Probably not."  
There was another pause. "You started to tell me a moment ago about when you sleep... my sleep hasn't exactly been peaceful lately... what were you going to say?"  
_I suppose I may as well tell him..._ "I was going to say... I... I see him. When I go to sleep, I always see him. His face usually. Sometimes he's laughing—and I'll wake up laughing too, but then I'll remember who I was laughing with... I've seen him d—I've seen it happen again a few times. And when I don't see him, I can hear his voice... always... and usually he's just, just talking to me, about nothing in particular, asking me how school is, asking whether Malfoy's given me any trouble or if Snape has and asking whether I want him to make sure Snape leaves me alone, because he says he'd protect me from anything, as long as he was able to..." He was angry to hear his voice break and roughly ran a palm across his eyes.  
It was a minute before Lupin spoke again, in little more than a whisper. "He would have, you know. Protected you, that is. And he did. He did everything Harry, risked everything for you, did things I'm sure you don't even know about... probably things I didn't know about myself. You know he did, Harry... to the end..."  
Far from making him feel better, Lupin's words made Harry feel as though his heart had sunk so low into his stomach that he couldn't reach it and it was beating terribly, so hard it hurt; and more tears were leaking out of his eyes. "Yeah, he protected me to the end all right... d'you know how the whole thing happened, Remus? It was my fault!"  
"Harry, no, it wasn't your fault..."  
"Voldemort got into my head and I saw him torturing Sirius. He wanted Sirius to get him something, I think it was the bloody prophecy, and Sirius said 'you'll have to kill me first,' and Voldemort said something about doing that in the end but then he just... he was torturing him, Remus! What was I supposed to do? I couldn't just sit around! He was going to kill Sirius!" He was yelling now, and no doubt his uncle would be up and try to make him shut up any moment now, but he didn't care.  
"Harry..."  
"So I got Ron and Hermione to go with me, and Ginny and Neville and Luna came with me too, and we got there and he wasn't there. No one was there. And then the Death Eaters arrived and we were sort of fighting with them, trying to get away, and Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna all got hurt and that was my fault for bringing them with me, for letting them come... And then you all got there and then Dumbledore got there and I thought surely we were saved, it would be all right now... but Sirius and Bellatrix were fighting and Sirius wasn't being serious and she just..."  
"Harry, listen to me..."  
"You saw him fall through the veil... did you see the look on his face? D'you remember it?"  
"Of course I do, Harry, listen..."  
"And d'you know why he was there?"  
"Yes I do..."  
"He was there, like you said, risking it all to save me! And I was only in danger because I thought he was and I only thought he was because I hadn't been studying Occlumency, and Sirius told me to... he wanted me to... if I'd listened to him... It was my fault!"  
"Please listen to me, it's not your fault..."  
"He was trying to save me! And now he's gone, Remus! He can't come back, never! I'll never see him again or hear him again except in my dreams, and they hurt! God, they hurt so much, Remus... I can't bear to see him anymore; I know it's not really him... I know he's gone, and you can't imagine how hard it is seeing him again, in these stupid dreams, and hearing him, I just can't bear it anymore, because I know it's not real and... every day, Remus, the damned dreams, and it's torture... because I..."  
"What, Harry?" Harry could barely hear his voice.  
"I loved him."  
Such a long pause followed that Harry was sure Remus must have hung up. Harry was debating hanging up himself when finally Lupin spoke again. "I know."  
The tears hadn't stopped. "'I know'? Is that all?"  
"Oh Harry, I don't know what else I can tell you... I know that nothing I could possibly say is going to help you. That would be impossible. But you have to know that if there was something I could say, I would say it..." His voice sounded strangled, tortured.  
_I wish I'd never said anything. Why did I have to go on like that?_ "Is there something... was that what you were calling about?"  
"No, it wasn't. I wouldn't have called just to ask you about him. I know that everything you just said was true, and I know it can't have been... it must have hurt you. I wouldn't have called to hurt you."  
Harry blinked. The tears had stopped coming and he imagined his eyes must look awfully red...  
"I was calling to ask... and I imagine this will be the last thing you want to hear after all that, but... I was wondering if you might want to spend the rest of the summer holidays with me."  
_Wait... what?_  
"I'm planning to see the World Cup, and I thought maybe if you were going, you might like to come after the match and sort of... live with me until school starts. Dumbledore's offered me the Defense Against the Dark Arts position this year... he said that he doesn't care what anyone thinks and that at this point all the matters is having our strength mustered... and I just thought you might want to come..."  
Harry automatically point his fist at the ceiling... realizing that he was no longer holding his wand, he grabbed it and sent another spray of sparks into the air.  
"...Are you still there, Harry?"  
"I am."  
"Alright."  
There was another long pause... "Remus?"  
"Yes?"  
"Could I... I don't know. I really don't know what to think or do right now. Could I have some time to think about it?"  
"Of course, Harry. Take as long as you want... d'you want me to give you the phone number for where I'm staying?"  
"Sure..." He wrote it down as Lupin gave it to him.  
"Well... I suppose you'd probably like to rest or something... got some homework to be doing?"  
"Yeah, I'd better go."  
"Okay then... try to remember what I said, Harry. He gave his life to save you... and he'd do it again." There was a click, and Remus was gone.

(A/N: Wow... two reviews! O.o Pardon my sarcasm... hope the two of you who're reading this story like the third chapter... I think it's my favorite so far. Slightly ironic how this one and Beyond Repair contradict each other, but now they're both sort of coming to the same point... which is that I love Remus. Go Lupin! Right, anyway... hope you two like it. Hope it's not too dramatic for you. Heh. And pardon Harry's language... Hissa: Harry's a troubled little individual, isn't he? .... Gee, you think so?)


	4. Things Change

(A/N: There's another one of these at the end... er, welcome to the final installment of "So Unexpected." I worked forever to finish it... and then went on vacation so I couldn't work on it... I actually wrote a fanfic while on vacation too, so it will be up eventually... and got ideas for three more... gosh, I sound almost as obsessed as I am. Anyway... please, please enjoy, and please review!!! Constructive criticism more than welcome!)

_  
"Hullo, Harry."  
"Hullo."  
"Surprised to see me?"  
"No, not really."  
"You're not?"  
"No... No, I was expecting you might be here."  
"Really? Why?"  
"I just thought you might be."  
"Oh... no particular reason?"  
"I—I don't think so. None that I can remember. Just sort of a feeling."  
"Ah, all right then...how're things going? Being treated alright?"  
"As alright as can be expected, I suppose."  
"Good. Heard about the Cup this year?"  
"Yeah, you could say so... England versus Australia."  
"Right... should be interesting. Of course, we're going to kill the competition, if it even deserves to be called that... the Australian team's really a bit of a joke. They've only made it this far on fortunate flukes. Bloody Aussies... anyway, planning to go?"  
"I, er... I dunno. I've been asked that a lot lately. Can't see any reason to go, though."  
"Why on earth wouldn't you go?"  
"I dunno... why on earth would I?"  
"Harry, there's not much to be happy about in this world, not much to enjoy, and more so for some than others. If Quidditch is the only thing that makes you smile... I'd like you to go."  
"I—maybe."  
"And anyway... Remus might be there. If you see him, ask him about the 'Forgiveable-if-you're-anyone-other-than-Snivellus' curse. Or the 'FIYAOTS' curse... We'll see how good old Moony's memory is..."  
He threw his head back and let out a booming, bark-like laugh, and Harry smiled to see the happiness on his godfather's face... but as that word clicked in the back of his mind—godfather—something in him started protesting. "No, no please... not again... get away from me, you're not real, get away... make it stop, get me out here, please..."_  
"Ow!"  
Harry woke up abruptly to find that Hedwig had come back from hunting and was sitting beside him on his bed. She blinked at him placidly, her eyes piercing his as though she knew what was troubling him and was saying "You can tell me, if you like." Harry shook his head, stroking her absently. "It's no use telling you, you know. You can't answer me." He breathed a frustrated sigh. "But I push away everyone else because they do answer me..." He stared into space and he must have stopped stroking her, because she nipped him sharply after a moment. "Ow! Honestly, you don't have to bite so hard... got something for me?"  
In answer, she held out her leg, to which a thick envelope was attached. Harry stared at it for a moment before pulling it off. Hedwig looked up at him dolefully and hooted softly. He dropped the letter to stroke her again. "No, I'm sorry Hedwig... I don't have anything for you to eat... there's some water in your cage. I can get you something to eat in a bit." He glanced down at where the letter had fallen with the backside facing him. A brief note was scrawled in Dumbledore's handwriting.  
  
_Harry—  
According to the wishes expressed in the enclosed letter, I never opened the envelope, nor read its contents._  
_-Albus Dumbledore_  
  
Harry turned the envelope over cautiously, not daring to hope that... his heart skipped a beat as he recognized the handwriting on the front. Fighting the mixed impulses to cry and laugh, he began to open it with trembling fingers—  
"Boy, are you quite finished with my telephone?"  
Harry glanced up distractedly and tossed the phone toward the door. "Yes, Uncle Vernon."  
His uncle burst into the room, spotted the phone on the floor, grabbed it, and pointed a finger at Harry. "Now, listen... I don't know how all of your bloody school friends suddenly got the number for this house... but I'll not have you tying up my phone line all day long, do you hear me?"  
Harry shrugged detachedly, never taking his eyes off of the envelope. "Sure, I hear you."  
Vernon slammed the door behind him and thundered down the stairs.  
Harry stared down for another moment at the letter, then tore it open before he could talk himself out of it. Before unfolding it, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to calm his breathing down. It can't be real... it can't be, it's not possible... there's no way this could be what I think it is...I shouldn't even bother to read it...But I can't not read it, I have to look... no, don't look, don't get your hopes up... But then he unfolded the letter, opened his eyes and began to read.  
  
_Hullo, Harry.  
I feel a tad stupid writing this, and I hope you never have to read it. But lately I've been getting a feeling... sort of a constant prickling on the back of my neck, like I'm being watched constantly, and something's about to go terribly wrong... But it's probably nothing besides this cursed old house. As I said, I hope you never have to read this...  
But just in case this strange feeling of mine really means something, I thought I'd just sort of... sit down and write you a letter. So that's what I'm doing.  
Erm... I'm really not sure what to write about. This is absurd, really... if your father was here reading over my shoulder, as he did almost every time I wrote a letter, he'd be poking me in the back and saying something like "Honestly Padfoot, could you be a little more morbid? I think there's still a .01% chance of me smiling in the future." But of course, your father isn't here... Harry, I know we never talked about James, except that I occasionally said how extraordinarily like him you were, and you are, but I want you to know that despite how incredibly like him you are, you are not James Potter. You are Harry Potter. You are who you want to be—remember that. Don't ever let anyone tell you who to be or how to act. According to Molly, I might need to remind myself of that, as well... d'you remember her telling me that you weren't James earlier this year? At first I was furious with her for having at me so... but then I realized that she was right, I had come to think of you as though I'd gotten James back. And it didn't take me long after that to realize that no, I hadn't got my best friend back, but I'd gotten something just as good, and that was you, Harry. Only you. I think you're absolutely perfect just being yourself, and I couldn't ask for a better godson. Don't you ever be anyone else.  
Remus just came in to check on what I was doing...peered over my shoulder and said, "Sirius, you realize that that last paragraph makes no sense whatever and it's completely circular?" I highly considered jinxing him. But re- reading it, I suppose he's right... sorry if I'm confusing you, Harry. It all made sense while I was thinking it out and writing it. (And in case you were wondering, he didn't have a chance to reprimand me for being dark... had to hide that bit from him, he'd think I was going insane. Of course, he probably does already, but you know...))  
I'm not really sure what to say now... you can't imagine how stupid I feel, writing you this letter as though I'm about to die. I certainly hope not... If you still want to, I'd still love for you to eventually come and live with me. That might be a bit of a problem if I were to snuff it, eh? I wouldn't want to live in this dusty old hellhole... maybe somewhere out in the country, don't you think so? Wide open, where you can always see the sky... excuse me for sounding ridiculous, but I actually have this clear picture of it in my mind. I missed seeing the sky those years in Azkaban. The sky, and the trees, and water... how does a creek sound to you? Of course, I'm not sure when Dumbledore would let you come... he's been a right old stiff lately, hasn't he? Oh, appropriately so, of course... you are in a bit of danger, you know, Voldemort running about and all. We'd hate to lose you, Harry, and of course that's why Dumbledore's like he is. But I do miss you terribly sometimes.  
Sorry for rambling on like that, wasn't the point of this letter at all... Although I'm not sure what the point was. I'm getting writer's cramp, and brain cramp, and stomach cramp... I'm dead hungry... and I can't think of anything else to say, so I suppose I'll close this letter soon.  
You know Harry, James left me to be your guardian if anything should happen to him... so if anything should happen to me, which it won't of course—but if it did, you should look to Remus... he was your father's and my best friend, you know. Oh, by the way, if you have the chance, be sure to ask one of us about the time we got Snape with the "FIYAOTS" curse in our sixth year.  
Anyway... No one could ever care about you as much as your parents did, but I think I have the right to say that I must come close... awfully close... and I know that Remus cares about you as well, so just in case this obnoxious prickling thing means something—I so hope it doesn't—Remus will make sure you're all right.  
I feel like I've just placed myself in death's door... but hopefully it's just my over-active imagination and this will never reach your hands. Just in case, I'm going to send it to Dumbledore and give him instructions not to read it.  
I don't know if I've ever told you, and if I haven't, then I'm a terrible person and a worse godfather... so in case I don't get another chance to tell you, I... I love you, Harry. More than I can say.   
-Sirius_

Harry finished reading with overbright eyes and his vision so blurry he could only just make out the last line. He let the tears run down his face as he bolted across the room and tore through his trunk until he found the photo album Hagrid had given him, which Harry had vowed never to look at again... he slowly opened it and looked down at a picture of his beaming parents. They waved up at him joyously, and he lifted a hand to wave back before turning past that page towards the middle of the book, where he found a picture of Sirius, who waved, winked, and then began to laugh happily, his then-handsome face tilted back. No sound came from the album, of course, but Harry could hear the sound of his godfather's bark-like laugh anyway. He shut the album and re-read Sirius' letter, then sat for a moment to collect his thoughts.  
After a minute he got up again and dug around in his trunk for some parchment and a quill, and then shoved some things off of his desk and sat down at it. Spreading the parchment out in front of him, he began to write.  
  
_Ron,   
Sorry I was... the way I was. There was no reason for me to yell at my best friends... I think I'd like to see the Cup with you, if the invitation is still open. Thanks for inviting me.   
-Harry_  
  
He rolled it up and sealed it, then grabbed another piece of parchment.  
  
_Hermione,   
I know I was rude, sorry about that, I know you were only trying to help... I've decided I'm going to the Quidditch Cup with the Weasleys after all, in case you're interested.   
-Harry_  
  
He shoved the letters aside and read Sirius' once more. "Look to Remus..." He read the last line several times over, then attempted to dry his eyes again before carefully setting the letter on top of the photo album and going back over to the desk to start another letter. He sucked on the end of the quill for a moment before changing his mind. A letter wouldn't do... He attached the letters he'd already written to Hedwig's leg and whispered to her "Just make sure these get to Ron and Hermione, okay?" She hooted softly before soaring out into the gathering dusk, and he watched her briefly before quietly going down the stairs. Good... Uncle Vernon was talking to Aunt Petunia and Dudley was watching television. He crept into the kitchen, where the phone was... or more exactly, where the phone should've been. He frowned and glanced around.  
"No..." The phone was lying on the table, right next to Uncle Vernon. Harry walked over as casually as he could.  
"And just what d'you think you're doing, boy?" Harry shrugged in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner. "I need to use the phone again."  
He almost smiled as his uncle's face turned purple yet again.  
"Right, thanks then, I'll just send it down when I'm done," he said as he hurriedly grabbed the phone and dashed up the stairs two at a time, his uncle shouting after him.  
Once in his room with the door shut and locked again, Harry crossed over to his bed and quickly found what he was looking for: a small piece of parchment with a number scribbled on it. He dialed the number into the phone. "Come on, come on, please be here..."  
"Hello?"  
"Professor Lupin?"  
"Harry?"  
"Yeah, this is Harry..." he paused briefly to skim Sirius' letter again, then said hesitantly, "Look, about that offer earlier... I mean, your invitation... er, if it's still all right with you, I might like... I mean, I decided... if the invitation's still open, I mean..."  
"You want to come stay for the summer?"  
  
_ Thanks..._ "Yeah, I think I do. If it's still okay with you."  
"Of course it is, Harry." Lupin paused and Harry glanced once more at the last line of Sirius' letter. "Was that all?"  
Harry shook his head slightly. "No, actually... I wanted to ask you something..." _What was it? Something about a hex or a curse... but it was only a stupid dream..._ "Er, you wouldn't know anything about a... 'FIYAOTS' curse, would you?"  
There was a small pause. "Er... no, sorry—doesn't sound familiar."  
_Damn. Of course not..._ "Okay. Never mind, it was just—"  
"Wait... no, surely you can't be talking about that ridiculous thing Padfoot and Prongs somehow managed to invent in our sixth year..." Harry hadn't expected to hear Lupin use Sirius and his dad's nicknames.  
Even more unexpected was what happened next...  
Remus laughed—not a forced, mirthless laugh like so many Harry had heard lately, but a genuine laugh that resounded with memories of times filled with joy, so many years ago... That so unexpected laugh seemed to bring some light to the room that had seemed so dark, and made Harry feel, just for a moment, that maybe the whole world wasn't crashing down around him—maybe there was something worth living for, worth fighting for. As Remus began talking about himself, Sirius and his dad at school, Harry glanced down at the letter clutched in his hand and smiled just a little more.

_I love you too, Sirius._

(A/N: Okay... after two weeks of editing the end, and even asking Renzo-the- Amazing to help me out (which he didn't... "It's great the way it is." No, IT'S NOT!) Anyway... so this is the best I could do. The only part of this chapter I personally like is the letter... I love the letter... Anyway, I've learned that the author is -usually- the only one who doesn't like their work, so I certainly hope that's the case here... and dead sorry to disappoint you if you don't like it, either. Don't give up on me... Beyond Repair is better than this, I promise! Wait... where are you going? No, don't leave! Wait!...)  
  
(Second A/N: YES! It is fixed! Completely! dances happily Found out hos to fix the italic and everything... huzzah.)


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